


Ginger Ale

by Chocolatpen



Series: salute to my terrible love life [3]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Age Difference, Coming of Age, Discrimination, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Cheating, M/M, Rare Pairings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-26
Updated: 2016-08-26
Packaged: 2018-08-11 04:38:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7876801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chocolatpen/pseuds/Chocolatpen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“A tattoo parlour?” Daichi’s face does that weird thing it only does when he’s doubting Koushi’s life choices.</p>
<p>Koushi pushes around the chinese takeaway in his box. “Well, they were hiring, and you’ve been… hinting at me to do something with my life, alot, so.”</p>
<p>A coming-of-age story set in 1980's America.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ginger Ale

**Author's Note:**

> back at it again with this extremely vague and unplanned series!! that's right, this is a series so please do read it in order! you won't understand much if you don't.
> 
> my nose has been bleeding a lot lately, don't know why *cries*. anyway, hope you guys enjoy this! please do leave a comment and/or kudos if you do, and subscribe to this series if you're interested in more :)

 

The large, white-haired man at the counter seems to stare through Koushi’s soul.

 

“I’m here for the… job opening?” Koushi tries, in the face of silence. Maybe he’d gone to the wrong place.

 

The man grunts, picking up the little handbell resting on the countertop to give it a little tinkle.

 

Immediately, a smaller, dark haired man bursts through the curtains.

 

“Moniwa Kaname, how do you do!” The dark haired man grins, taking Koushi’s hand in his. Besides the dark circles under his eyes, he looks way younger than the silver haired boy. “I own this place.”

 

“Sugawara Koushi.” Koushi replies, a little bewildered.

 

“Well, if you’re wondering, you’ve got the job.” Kaname says with a little shrug. “Anyone who isn’t scared of Takanobu is perfect.”

 

Koushi raises a brow, trailing his gaze up a hundred and ninety centimeters of muscle and ink, before turning back to Kaname. “Great.”

 

…

 

“A _tattoo parlour_?” Daichi’s face does that weird thing it only does when he’s doubting Koushi’s life choices.

 

Koushi pushes around the chinese takeaway in his box. “Well, they were hiring, and you’ve been… hinting at me to do something with my life, _alot_ , so.”

 

Daichi massages his nose bridge. “It’s alright as long as you know they’re legitimate.”

 

“Well, they accepted me mostly ‘cause I could talk to a super huge, tattooed guy without breaking a sweat,” Koushi shrugs. “How does _that_ fare on your legitimacy radar?”

 

Daichi’s eye twitches, almost like he’s about to have an aneurysm.

 

Koushi just laughs and presses himself further into the older man’s side.

 

…

 

“Oho, new meat!” The brown haired man leans down to press his face close to Koushi’s. Dark, twisting tattoos peek out from under his long sleeves.

 

Even Koushi flinches at the loud slap Kaname delivers to the man’s back.

 

“Koushi, this is Futakuchi Kenji.” Kaname’s expression is the epitome of disapproving mother. “He’s our main tattoo artist. There are a few who come in from time to time, but he’s almost always here.”

 

Kenji’s arm loops around Kaname’s shoulders and Koushi goes _oh_.

 

…

 

“What about spaghetti?” Koushi hums, eyeing the noodle packets stacked on the shelf. “I make a mean alfredo.”

 

“Sounds good.” Daichi nods, pressing a chaste kiss to Koushi’s temple. The hand on his waist is fleeting. “I’ll go get the sauce.”

 

Koushi doesn’t make it a habit to eavesdrop, but the two women standing a little ways down the aisle are blatantly loud.

 

“-twice his age, doesn’t he?” The first woman says. “It’s kind of creepy. And disgusting.”

 

“Tell me about it.” The second woman is rolling her eyes. Koushi can feel it. “It’s as if there aren’t any decent people left in the world anymore.”

 

Pursing his lips, Koushi picks a box of penne and power walks to Daichi’s side.

 

He latches on to Daichi’s arm and doesn’t let go for the rest of their shopping trip.

 

…

 

On Koushi’s third day, Kaname comes running into the backroom with his ink gun still whirring. He almost trips over the wire taut at his ankles.

 

“Kenji, did you- did you _do_ anything?” Kaname sounds breathless, even though it’s less than fifty metres from the front of the house.

 

“What, no?” Kenji sounds incredulous, and he points at Koushi. “Why aren’t you asking _him_?”

 

Kaname looks at Koushi’s decidedly fake angel-like expression and turns his fluster back to Kenji. “Then why is there a _cop_ at our front desk?!”

 

“Oh.” Koushi goes, and both Kaname and Kenji stare. “Then it might actually be my fault.”

 

They follow him like puppies into the front of the store, where Daichi is standing in full uniform.

 

“This is Daichi,” Koushi introduces, slipping an arm around his boyfriend’s waist. “We’re together.”

 

Kaname and Kenji exchange a glance.

 

…

 

“Is our relationship…” Koushi says, pausing halfway through unpacking their in-and-out takeaway. “ _Abnormal_?”

 

Daichi peeks his head out from where it had been buried inside their fridge. “Why do you say so?”

 

“It’s just,” Koushi sighs, leaning against the counter. “I don’t know, I guess I never realised that people look at us and, I don’t know, feel uncomfortable?”

 

“Does it bother you?” Daichi asks, pulling at Koushi’s waist so that they’re flush against each other.

 

Koushi bites his lip. “I don’t like it when people say bad things about you.”

 

Daichi sighs, and rocks them slowly, from side to side. “You’re too good for me.”

 

…

 

“You’re one badass mother- mothertrucker, man,” Kenji says, cheek in palm, as he watches Koushi work. Kaname glares a little at the almost slip-up and ducks back into the backroom.

 

Koushi lifts a questioning brow as he passes a folder of designs over to a bald man with a nasty expression.

 

Turning his attention away from the tattoo artist, the grey-haired boy flips to a page and points at a particular design. “On your back. Between the skull and the dragon – I feel like it’d go.”

 

The bald man nods. Contemplative look on his face, he takes the folder with him to the waiting chairs lined up against the wall.

 

Kenji shoots Koushi a look that screams _see?_ and straightens up. “Hey, just wondering, how old is your man?”

 

“Thirty-seven.” Koushi replies, a little stiffly. It’s a sore subject.

 

“Ah.” Kenji nods. “I’m sure that’s pretty hard to deal with.”

 

Koushi lowers his gaze. “Yeah. It really is.”

 

…

 

One Saturday, Daichi picks Koushi from work and drives them to a nearby diner for a nice night out.

 

With Koushi now working weekends and Daichi busy with a new case, they haven’t been able to go on a proper date for ages. Waking up next to each other fills up the void – if barely.

 

Koushi doesn’t miss the way Daichi’s hand hovers over his shoulder, just for a second, before he’s pulling it away and opening the door for him.

 

…

 

“Congratulations!”

 

Koushi jumps two feet in the air when the poppers go off.

 

His eyebrows go up as he pulls silly string from his hair. “Thanks, what did I win?”

 

Takanobu – who’s actually a _baker_ , not a tattoo artist – passes Koushi a slice of cake, which he accepts gratefully.

 

“A full-time job!” Kaname grins. It falters a second later, and his normal bustling worry shows through. “Well, only if you want it, of course. Our receptionists never usually last this long, not with Kenji driving them up the wall.”

 

“Hey!” Kenji flicks Kaname on the ear.

 

Watching Kenji and Kaname interact so freely is refreshing. It’s nice.

 

Almost enviable.

 

…

 

“So.” Koushi starts, knitting his fingers with Daichi’s. “I think I got a promotion.”

 

Daichi pulls away to reach for the highest shelf. His other hand is empty. “Is it not confirmed?”

 

“It’s a full-time opening,” Koushi shrugs, watching Daichi closely for his reaction.

 

Daichi seems to notice the change in Koushi’s tone, and he glances down at their shopping list before pressing it into Koushi’s open palm. “I’m going to get some fish.”

 

Watching Daichi’s retreating back from the cereal aisle, Koushi rests his elbow on the handle of the shopping cart and sighs.

 

…

 

Koushi has been many things as a lover, but never _clingy_.

 

He’s never felt so needy for anyone’s attention before, never felt the need for touch this strongly.

 

Is he being paranoid? Koushi doesn’t know, but he can’t hep the little flashbacks to- to Yuji drawing away from him, and then reappearing with Morisuke at his side. Even Daichi and that client – the lipstick stain, the pearl earring he kept.

 

Toru had been angry because Koushi had been too passive.

 

Is he too _much_ , now?

 

All he’s sure of is that Daichi isn’t as active a lover as he used to be.

 

And Koushi doesn’t like it one bit.

 

…

 

“Hey, hey,” Chikara says, snapping his fingers.

 

Koushi pulls himself out of his thoughts rather lethargically. “Oh, sorry. What were you saying?”

 

“The Kozume case, it was handed over to Kuroo – this other guy from our division.” One of Chikara’s eyebrows is raised. Koushi nods. He remembers the wild-haired cop. “Well, he found the kid. Turns out that the mother’s not been as honest as we’d hoped, and- Koushi, are you sure you’re alright?”

 

“Peachy.” Koushi nods, again, and pushes around the hashbrown on his plate. “Just tired. Got a full-time job at the parlour.”

 

Chikara doesn’t drop it. “The last time I saw you this… _off_ , was before- before you ended up in the hospital.”

 

Koushi sighs, in a way that is all false bravado and enthusiastic aggravation. “It’s really fine, Chikara. I just need to sort out some things.”

 

The cop doesn’t look satisfied, but he doesn’t push it.

 

Koushi is grateful.

 

His thoughts are in a mess, and he wouldn’t be able to say anything even if he wanted to.

 

…

 

“It’s a pretty slow day,” Kenji hums, massaging the juncture of Kaname’s neck in passing. “Wanna get some ink done?”

 

“You’re ridiculous.” Kaname is rolling his eyes, but his lips are pulled upwards at the sides.

 

“Only for you, baby,” Kenji shrugs, smirking. He’s almost twice Kaname’s height, and has to bend down to press a soft kiss to the top of his lover’s head.

 

Koushi averts his gaze and flips through the designs in one of the folders instead.

 

He misses when Daichi used to do that to him.

 

…

 

Kissing is nice, Koushi thinks.

 

Swinging a leg over daichi’s hips, he presses an insistent mouth on firm lips. The grip Daichi has on Koushi’s waist is hard, harder than normal, and the older man’s fingers are digging into his skin.

 

“-Koushi, _stop_.”

 

Koushi stumbles over a wayward pillow, tumbles off the bed and lands heavily on the floor.

 

“Fuck, I’m sorry, that was-” It’s Daichi’s turn to fluster, in a futile struggle with the bedsheets. He peers over the edge of the bed to stare at an impossibly-still Koushi. “I didn’t mean to-”

 

“It’s okay.” Koushi says. “It’s okay.”

 

Daichi reaches out to him, but the younger boy flinches back.

 

The hurt flashing across the older man’s features is enough to fracture Koushi’s heart.

 

Standing up on wobbly legs, Koushi snatches his keys and wallet off the tabletop.

 

“I’ll- I’ll be back.”

 

…

 

The one thing Koushi hates more than anything in the world is feeling weak.

 

Feeling his nose stinging and watching his vision blur with tears – it makes him feel _fragile_.

 

Koushi will be fine.

 

He just needs time.

 

And _courage_.

 

…

 

By the time Koushi gets to the parlour, the sniffle in his nose is the only indicator of his tiny breakdown.

 

“If you want to talk about it.” Kaname offers, hand over his, before he retreats to the backroom to help Kenji with a big piece.

 

The soft background music of the parlour is comforting, and the low buzzing of the tattoo guns is familiar.

 

It’s nice and soothing, to have a space to just _breathe_.

 

…

 

The bell chimes when the front door is pushed open.

 

“Welcome! How can I help you-”

 

“Kaname.” The blond-haired man standing at the doorway has something like a menacing air around him. The parlour’s customers normally look it, but this one is simmering with anger. “Where is he?”

 

Koushi’s hand is inching towards the big red button under his counter when Kaname and Kenji burst through the beads hanging in the doorway. They’re laughing, but the happy sounds are cut short when they spot blonde man.

 

(Kaname has always had a sort of nervous energy about him, a breakable sort of wobbliness in the way he behaves.

 

Koushi watches him _shatter_ , so suddenly and so intensely that it almost seems visible.)

 

“Kamasaki.” Kenji greets, in the same taunting way he normally speaks. The sharpness to his tone is the only giveaway that something is wrong.

 

He steps in front of Kaname, pulling the smaller man behind him. “It’s been awhile.”

 

The blonde man lunges.

 

…

 

“ _Koushi?_ ” Daichi sounds worried, his voice distorted over the phone.

 

“Please, come to the parlour.” Koushi’s voice is trembling. Beside him, under the counter, Kaname is stock still and glassy eyed.

 

Koushi flinches when someone – Kamasaki or Kenji, he doesn’t know – is thrown against the wall.

 

“ _What happened?_ ” Daichi’s voice is hurried now, panicking. “ _Koushi, are you o-_ ”

 

Koushi has to stifle a sob when he hears Kenji crying out in pain. “I’m okay, please hurry.”

 

“ _On my way_.” Daichi lingers, for a second, before the line disconnects.

 

…

 

Kenji has to smash a flower vase over Kamasaki’s head before he finally stays down.

 

…

 

“You okay?” Kenji asks, in disinterested nonchalance, once Daichi has brought Kamasaki away in cuffs. “Kaname’s fine, he just needs to rest.”

 

Koushi shrugs, staring at his trembling fingers.

 

“Here. Homemade ginger ale.” Kenji sighs, sliding a mug across the counter. “I’m sorry about that.”

 

Koushi takes a good, long drink and watches Kenji run a hand through his dishevelled brown hair.

 

“Kamasaki is Kaname’s ex-boyfriend.” Kenji finally says, after a long pause. “They had a… really unhealthy relationship. It was fucking awful, and it got even uglier when they broke up. We moved away, partly to get away from him, but, well. Didn’t seem to help, did it?”

 

“I didn’t think…” Koushi grimaces, not knowing what to say. They’d always seemed so happy – Kaname had always seemed so _okay_. “Why didn’t you report him?”

 

“Kaname didn’t want to.” Kenji shrugs, gulping down his own drink. He rests his head on his hand. “Too kind for his own good.”

 

Koushi’s eyes flicker to Kenji’s bruised cheek. He’s wiped away most of the blood, but the damage has already been done.

 

“Koushi.” Kenji is oddly serious. “No relationship is perfect. The key to figuring it out is _communication_. It’s gotten me and Kaname this far. You need to talk to him if you want it to work out. _Don’t_ keep it all inside.”

 

Koushi doesn’t ask how Kenji knows.

 

…

 

The car ride back home is silent, until Koushi winds down the volume of the radio and speaks.

 

“I’m scared.” Koushi says. His voice quivers in the palpable silence. “I’m scared that I’m too young and too clingy and that I’m not enough for you. I’m scared that I’m not doing things right, and that I’m going to lose you because you’re not- you’re not touching me like you used to, and I don’t understand and it just _doesn’t feel right_.”

 

Daichi pulls over on the side of the road and grips the steering wheel tightly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know you felt that way.”

 

It sounds mechanical, practiced. Impersonal.

 

“Tell me what to do,” Koushi is a finger’s width away from begging. “Tell me how to make things better.”

 

“This isn’t-” The older man makes a frustrated noise. “ _Nothing_ is your fault, Koushi. You’re- You’re more than what I could’ve ever hoped for.”

 

“Then what’s _wrong_?” Koushi shifts, so much so that he’s straining against the seat belt. “What’s _different_? I don’t understand, is everything okay-”

 

“I _love_ you, Koushi, and that’s the problem!” Daichi averts his gaze, and Koushi freezes, stunned. “You’re so young, and I feel like- like I’m dragging you down, stopping you from being _young_ and- I don’t miss what people say when they see us together. I hate it, because they don’t know us but they judge us anyway, and I couldn’t do anything to stop them. I felt like the only thing I _could_ do was distance myself.”

 

Daichi’s rant ends on a shaky note, as though he were unsure of it himself.

 

“Then why’d you push me away?” Koushi asks, more vulnerable than he’s ever felt before. “We were at _home_. Home is supposed to be- it’s supposed to be _safe_.”

 

“You could do so much better than me, Koushi.” Daichi’s voice is close to a whisper. “I don’t understand why you’d want to stay with me.”

 

“I love you.” Koushi pressing his lips onto Daichi’s is a surprise to both of them. “I realise I’ve never said it to you, before, and I want you to know. I love you, and all that matters now is whether or not you want us to work.”

 

Daichi’s hands – big, and rough, and warm – cup Koushi’s face gently, and Koushi relishes in it because it’s the first, true contact they’ve had for ages.

 

“I do, God, I do,” Daichi leans down so that their foreheads are touching. “I’m sorry, Kou, I’ve been such a jerk.”

 

Koushi laughs, pecks Daichi on the lips. It feels like a weight lifted off his shoulders.

 

“Then that’s all that really matters.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

{End}

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
